


Ghosts and Spirits

by SunnyD_lite



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-01
Updated: 2010-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-08 14:38:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunnyD_lite/pseuds/SunnyD_lite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If someone had told him that Angel would get to watch Spike disappear, he'd have kissed them</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts and Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Angel Sn 5, and various flashbacks  
> Tamingthemuse Prompt: nurture  
> Disclaimer: I am not Mutuant Enemy. I own NONE of the characters. Just playing!  
> A/N: My thanks to enigmaticblue and Spiralleds for thier betaing and hand holding as the muse played peek-a-boo with me all week

At one point, if someone told him that he'd get to watch Spike disappear, he'd have kissed them. From the start they had been oil and water to each other. Angelus had tried to mold him into a true member of the Aurelius family, but from the very beginning William had fought it, kicking and screaming. But lately, as he felt the others drifting or drowning in the new world of Wolfram &amp; Hart, his thoughts turned to William.

 

1880 – London

"Again."

"The one on the right. She doesn't have a hovering mother around."

"Wrong. She has a bevy of girls watching her. You wouldn't have four minutes before they followed. Again."

"The widow? No one's asked her to dance all evening."

"That's because she's the host's mistress. Not a good idea. Again."

And again. For someone 'of the manor born', he failed to grasp the basics of his own society. Angelus pushed aside the hours that Darla had spent training him. His world had been more focused on the tavern than the social whirl of small town Ireland.

But Drusilla had never had difficulty in choosing a victim.  
** ** **

Angel took a sip of his whiskey. Drusilla. Angelus' finest work. His heaviest burden. He remembered her addition to their family well.

** ** **

"She's yours. You clean up her messes." Darla had been quite firm on that point, after the turning. Oddly firm, since he'd been head of their family. Especially as she'd encouraged his torment and turning of Drusilla, by saying, "Having one with the sight could prove...useful. Times are changing, my Angel."

He'd never imagined how many messes there might be.

Strays. How Darla laughed whenever she saw what Drusilla had dragged home. At least she wasn't here for this one, who wasn't a child. Or a kitten. Angelus shuddered at that memory. Clearly some things should not be turned.

Not that Darla would be saying much, her hopping to the Master's whim and all. Meant he needn't consult anyone on the running of the family.

The family that had gained the self-named William the Bloody.

Drusilla's transformation had formed part of the chase. Angelus had watched, then undercut each and every stable part of her world, readying her for her destiny. Watching her find her family dead, one by one. Letting her see him from time to time at the convent. Waiting until she'd become a Bride of Christ, then raping her in the Sisters' blood.

She'd awoken shattered, but the demon had been strong.

She hadn't learned from his example.

And she had brought home another mess for him to deal with, one with an attitude problem.  
** ** **

Angelus sighed. This might chase the boredom away awhile. Johnston may have said that those bored of London were bored of life, but he'd not had centuries of wanderings to fill. Training, nurturing the young one, so full of pride yet needful of praise, well, 'twas a worthy occupation.

Plus he could always stake him in the morning.

William was far too human in his needs. That should have made his training simple. It didn't.

Instead of correcting errors when Angelus ignored him—Darla had taught him the power of withholding your Sire's attention—William would enact grand schemes.

Which is how they found themselves in a coal mine.

"We are like the demi-monde, and are you blushing? We hover between the worlds. With London's fogs, we can travel day or night but our targets must be forgettable. Or we must be prepared to move quickly. So, no William, you canna try to turn one of the Royals."

Angelus had lived by knowing the limits of this life. He found William's brash challenges a blend of wearisome and invigorating. But those times he was talked into William's schemes, ah those nights were trouble.

Los Angeles 2003

Sitting in his new corporate penthouse suite, he raised a glass of spirits to his incorporeal friend. In that moment Angel realized that those madcap schemes were some of his clearest memories of Spike. That their troubled blend of Victorian gentleman's rebellion and demonic nature formed the basis of the push pull between them. Nature, nurture, it did not matter. They were family.


End file.
